


Feeding The Animals

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Tucker needs to keep a promise, and Reed is helping. (07/21/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This story was written on my sister's computer while I was visiting her in Toronto, Ontario, so there will be some Canadian spellings, since I decided not to bother to change it to US English. It was actually pretty cathartic for me, since I'm a transplanted Canuck myself.  


* * *

Malcolm stalked out of Trip's quarters on _Enterprise_ , walking fast enough that Trip, still pulling up the left sleeve of his uniform, had to trot to catch up with him. Trip's hair was spiked at odd angles, and he had stuffed his feet so quickly into his boots he hadn't had a chance to close the zippers yet; they rattled annoyingly as he moved. Malcolm, whose hair was none too neat either, glanced back at him with a narrow-eyed expression of pure exasperation.

"I was under the impression," he said acidly, "that you weren't the kind of man who forgot important assignments."

"Ah'm not!" Trip said. He yanked up his uniform zipper until it nearly met his throat. At Malcolm's icily bemused look he scowled. "C'mon, Malc! It's not like I just overloaded the anti-matter containment systems or somethin'!" With his longer stride he had almost caught up with Malcolm, but now the lieutenant was refusing to look at him.

"No," Malcolm answered, his tone crisp, "you've just let a small group of helpless animals wait an extra five hours for their supper and clean bedding."

Trip opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again, bending to fasten his boots and letting Malcolm walk to the turbo lift ahead of him. No sense arguing when the other man was right. He'd grown up with animals, and if he'd been at home now he'd've got royal hell for forgetting to take care of any of them, regardless that he was past thirty and a Starfleet officer to boot.

"It's not like it's my damn _job_ ," he complained to himself as he straightened, "I'm doing the man a _favour_." He sighed, taking a moment to rub the back of his neck as if he could somehow smooth down the prickle of guilt that way. "I wish Hoshi was still here," he muttered, as he walked the rest of the way to the turbo lift.

* * *

Trip spotted Malcolm immediately as soon as he entered Sickbay. The lieutenant was using a pair of forceps to slip chunks of meat to Phlox's carnivorous bat. Trip had no idea if the forceps were meant for use with the bat or some other medical purpose, but he couldn't fault him for using them—the bat had a ship-wide reputation for its viciousness; only Phlox could put his fingers near the thing without risking getting them bitten off. He knew he should be helping—hell, _he_ was the guy Phlox had asked to look after his animals while he was away, not Malcolm—but for a moment he just watched, indulging himself a little. Malcolm might've been furious at him, but you'd never know it. Even passing food into the snapping jaws of the most dangerous animal on the ship, Malcolm was...gentle. Trip could see the lieutenant's quick reflexes every time he jerked the forceps back, but he was also talking softly to the animal; the same kind of nonsensical sing-song things Trip had heard Archer using with Porthos, as if the bat was both as appealing and responsive as the dog.

Malcolm gave Trip a sidelong glance as he dropped the forceps into a nearby sink, then turned and faced him, hands on hips. "Any idea how we should change the bedding?"

Trip looked dubiously at the small, cylindrical cage, peppered with small holes. The only way to open it was to lift the lid, and he didn't relish the idea of possibly letting the small creature escape. Privately he was elated that Malcolm was being civil to him, but that wouldn't help solve the problem. "None whatsoever."

"Hmmm," Malcolm studied the cage. He reached out gingerly with both hands, tilting it away from him so he could examine its bottom. Immediately there was a sharp screech and the cage began rattling. Malcolm pulled his hands away like they were on fire.

Trip just kept his eyes on the cage as if any second a whole army of killer bats was going to come bursting out of it. "Maybe we'll just let the doc deal with that one."

Malcolm backed up a step from the cage, but he didn't look happy. "I don't like the idea of leaving it dirty."

"I don't like the idea of you losing your fingers."

Malcolm glanced at Trip sharply, then sighed. "Very well," he said, "what's next?"

Trip jerked his head over towards a larger aquarium on the other side of Sickbay. "Your old buddy."

They walked together to the other side of Sickbay, where a number of small cages and aquariums were lined up neatly on a counter. Trip recognized the sand-filled aquarium as belonging to some kind of shell-covered invertebrate, but he'd be damned if he could remember what it was called. Luckily the good doctor had been thoughtful enough to leave containers of food in front of each animal.

"Very thorough," Malcolm murmured. He was looking at the low-walled aquarium the parasitic crustacean was kept in; Dr. Phlox's favourite broad-spectrum painkiller. The floor of the aquarium was covered with a few centimetres of water, with three flat rocks rising above the surface. The small creature, vaguely reminiscent of a starfish, was resting on the largest rock, short tentacles softly waving back and forth. "I didn't know it actually ate anything."

Trip looked at Malcolm curiously, but the lieutenant's expression was unreadable. "Anythin' aside from brains, y'mean?" He asked, raising both eyebrows. He grabbed the plastic container that had been in front of the aquarium, took one of Malcolm's wrists and smacked it into his open hand. "Here's its dinner," he said, motioning with his thumb at the larger aquarium next to it, the one full of sand. "There's my date; knock y'self out."

Trip made short work of feeding the sand-dwelling whatever-it-was, dropping a small handful of what looked suspiciously like (but he fervently hoped weren't) freeze-dried mice foetuses onto the sand, then watching in mild horror as a small sink-hole appeared and sucked the food down like meteorites into a black hole. Trip leaned in as close as he dared to try and see if it looked like the aquarium needed cleaning or not, but the sand looked absolutely pristine. And it really didn't seem like the sort of critter who would enjoy having its meal interrupted, anyway. Then he remembered it had been waiting an extra five hours to eat, and he dropped in a couple more freeze-dried things to be on the safe side.

The next animal was very much like a bird—well, a bald, grey-skinned bird with extra wings—but enough like a bird that it was obvious how it should be taken care of. Trip carefully removed the bottle and food-cups attached to the cage bars, then cleaned them in the nearby sink. He refilled the bottle with the light-orange liquid in front of the cage, and then shook enough seeds into the cups to fill them almost to the brim. Changing the litter at the bottom of the cage was even simpler, and Trip couldn't help grinning as he slid the tray back into place; the feather-less bird seemed happy, bobbing its head and squawking softly as it began to peck at the seeds.

The three creatures that remained to be fed, each in their own small habitat, seemed to be different varieties of giant caterpillar, and only required fistfuls of fresh leaves. They didn't move as Trip removed the uneaten leaf-veins from the bottom of their cages, though he was more than happy that Phlox had left out more forceps to do it with.

He was about to just toss the forceps in the sink, then glanced quickly and Malcolm and decided that they should probably be washed for tomorrow. And maybe the day after that—no one had any idea when Phlox and Hoshi might be back from their aid mission. He turned on the water to a high stream so Malcolm couldn't help but hear it, and grinned widely, making a show of cleaning the forceps when Malcolm glanced at him.

Malcolm just rolled his eyes. Then Trip looked at what he was doing and blinked. He was holding the parasite at eye level, cupped carefully in the palm of his hand.

"What're ya doin'?" Trip demanded. He dropped the forceps into the rack beside the sink and turned the water off, then went to Malcolm, prepared to smack the critter out of his hand. "That thing's dangerous!"

Malcolm just looked at him, apparently unconcerned. "It has to be nearer your head," he said blandly. "Otherwise it's completely harmless."

Trip wasn't sure he was buying that, but he did take a step closer. "When did you become an expert in xenobiology?"

Malcolm was looking at the creature again. His expression was almost wistful. "Phlox told me." He reached out with his other hand and gently ran his forefinger down the crustacean's back, like he was petting a kitten or mouse. It twitched its limbs but otherwise seemed uninterested in the contact.

Trip watched the small parasite suspiciously, but he reached into the aquarium to pick up the three rocks and placed them on the counter. Then he shrugged and brought them to the sink. "Aren't ya gonna feed that thing?" He asked as he began rinsing the rocks. They felt slimy to the touch and he hoped that whatever the slime was, it wasn't vital to the creature's health.

"I did," Malcolm answered. Without looking at Trip he picked up the small rectangular container and rattled it. "It's eaten already. I was just...paying my respects."

"What?" Trip stacked the three now-clean rocks in his hands and brought them back over to the aquarium, placing them on the counter. He looked from the parasite to Malcolm's profile. "Is it dyin' or somethin'?" Visions of Phlox's reaction to his favourite painkiller's demise made him grimace. "Maybe we should-"

"It's fine." Malcolm said. Then he chucked, a bit self-consciously, and angled his hand to let the crustacean slip on to one of the rocks. It seemed content to stay perfectly still where it settled. "I, ah..." He was blushing, Trip noted. "I owe that small creature a lot."

Trip's brows knit in puzzlement as he picked up the aquarium and brought it to the sink. He began rolling up his sleeves. "Ya told me you weren't in that much pain." He turned the water on full and began rinsing the aquarium, concentrating hard enough that he didn't hear Malcolm coming up behind him until he put his hand on his back. Trip turned towards him, surprised.

Malcolm's grin was beautiful. "I mean," He said, "that because of that creature, I'm with you."

"Oh. O'course," Trip said. He ducked his head as he finished running water into the aquarium, hoping Malcolm wouldn't notice his own face was on fire now. "Glad you already fed it, then." It was a stupid thing to say and his blush deepened as he listened to Malcolm laugh. He brought the aquarium back to its original place on the counter, purposely not looking at Malcolm though he could feel the other man's eyes like burn-marks on his spine. He quickly put the rocks back, trying to remember what order they went in, wondering if the crustacean would care. He didn't want to pick up the rock that the parasite was on, but Malcolm was watching and he didn't want to show he was squeamish about it, either. He picked up the rock with his fingers, barely touching it, and all but dropped it back into the water. Then he went back to the sink and washed his hands again.

He felt Malcolm's arms slip around his waist, the tickle of his breath as he leaned in close to his ear. "I do love you, you know," Malcolm said, "you bloody phobic yank."

"That's 'redneck' an' don't you forget it," Trip said, but he was smiling. He shut off the water and turned around so that he and Malcolm were facing each other, Malcolm's arms still around his waist and his clasped behind the lieutenant's neck. "Ah guess," he drawled, "that this means you ain't still mad?"

"Not entirely," Malcolm sighed, though he made it sound like a major concession on his part. "But I hope you won't forget again—these creatures are depending on you."

Trip nodded solemnly. "I promise—scout's honour."

"You were never a scout."

"Lucky me."

Malcolm stepped back a bit, so he could look Trip directly in the eyes. "I'm serious, Trip."

"I know," Trip said, making his face sober, "So'm'I. Tonight was a mistake—it won't happen again even if the Doc and Hoshi're gone for the next month."

Malcolm's smile was so relieved—almost grateful—that it made Trip's chest tighten. He tried to make a joke out of it: "I never had you figured for the animal-lover type."

Malcolm frowned. Trip was surprised that he seemed actually offended. "I love animals," Malcolm said, "-why ever would you think otherwise?"

"I didn't," Trip said quickly. "It was just a joke." He tried to smile but against Malcolm's staid expression it mostly disappeared. "Ah dunno," he admitted finally, "you just seem so...self sufficient."

Malcolm cocked his head, his expression a little sad. "Self sufficient," He echoed. "What a curious choice of words."

Trip rubbed the back of his head, suddenly wishing for some disaster in Engineering—or maybe for the deck plating to just open and swallow him—whatever might actually get him out of this. "It's not like I'm saying y'don't play well with others, Malc—it's just, y'know," he paused, then shrugged helplessly. "Y'never seemed like the kind of guy who..." He trailed off at the look on Malcolm's face: a flicker of hurt that was rapidly hidden behind a veneer of icy indifference.

"Who what?" Malcolm asked. His voice had gone flat, as coldly professional as if he were speaking to a stranger. He dropped his hands from Trip's waist and clasped them behind his back, like they were on duty and he receiving a report. Trip's body felt cold from the loss of contact, and he suddenly realized that the edge of the sink was digging painfully into his back. He hated it when Malcolm did this—how easily he could do this—somehow pull back emotionally until it seemed he was nothing more than a kind of human-shaped android, unconnected to anyone. As if he didn't love Trip at all; as if any pretence of love had been a lie. He'd prefer to have a screaming argument right in the middle of Sickbay than face this. Hell, he'd prefer a fistfight though he'd be sure to lose—maybe take an EVA stroll without a spacesuit while he was at it. Anything was better than this: as if he meant nothing more to his partner than a computer, or a wall.

Well, he wasn't going to let Malcolm get away with it tonight. Not when he hadn't said a damn thing to hurt him if the damned fool limey wasn't so oversensitive in the first place. If Malcolm wanted to play iceman, than Trip figured he knew a pretty good way to thaw him out.

"...Who would want a god-damn _dog_ ," Trip growled, finally finishing the sentence. Then he stepped forward, grabbed a handful of Malcolm's uniform and pulled him into a kiss.

Malcolm let out a noise that might have been an enraged shout if his lips weren't covered, and Trip was thankful that he was too surprised to truly react or he was certain he'd be bleeding on the floor. Instead he took advantage of Malcolm's open mouth to deepen the kiss, dipping his tongue inside the other man's mouth; sliding it along Malcolm's tongue, scraping it gently over his teeth. The fingers of his free hand snaked into the hair on the back of Malcolm's head.

Trip wasn't sure, but it sounded like Malcolm muttered 'bastard,' though with his voice muffled it was hard to tell. He could feel the lieutenant's hands at his sides again, and tensed slightly, expecting to be pushed away. But instead Malcolm's palms slipped downward to cup his ass, pulling him forward so sharply that Trip grunted in surprise. Malcolm chuckled low in his throat, and Trip could feel Malcolm's teeth against his lips when he grinned.

Trip chuckled in return, thrilled to have his Malcolm back. His right hand, still trapped between them, was quickly going numb, and he thought he might be getting a bruise on his back, but he could hear Malcolm almost moaning as he breathed, feel his arousal hot as blood just under his own, and there was nothing short of a hull breach that would get him to move.

A minute later, though, it was Malcolm who stepped back, and Trip gratefully let his hands drop, wiggling the fingers of his right hand a little to get the feeling back into them. "That was cheap," Malcolm said. He was breathing hard. His storm-coloured eyes were heavy-lidded and smouldering, but it wasn't with anger—Trip noted with a great deal of pleasure that Malcolm hadn't let go of him, just slid his hands up and around until they were flat against his chest. Trip wondered if Malcolm could feel his heart pounding through his clothing.

It was Trip's turn to grin. "Y'know y'damn well deserved it."

Malcolm just smirked. "I love dogs," he said.

"What?" Malcolm was slowly undoing the zipper on Trip's uniform and it was a little hard to concentrate. His right hand was feeling normal again and he began to work at the zipper on Malcolm's uniform, feeling almost desperate to touch him again. He shuddered with pleasure, every nerve ending ablaze as Malcolm's hands slipped inside his open uniform and under his shirt.

"You said I wouldn't want a dog," Malcolm explained quietly. His fingers slid up and gently brushed over Trip's nipples, making him gasp. "You're wrong—I love dogs."

"Ah kinda'...figured you for the cat type," Trip was having some trouble speaking, wondering why they were even bothering with this conversation. He had managed to open the front of Malcolm's uniform and his own palms were now trailing fire along the lieutenant's skin, but there wasn't enough space between them for his hands to go down the way he wanted to, so he settled for having them slide around to Malcolm's back; he could feel the rounded ridges of his spine. He leaned in for another kiss.

"I love cats too," Malcolm murmured. His lips were just touching Trip's as he spoke, the vibrations from Malcolm's voice buzzing along his nerves. "You remind me of a tiger."

"Huh?" Trip wasn't sure he had managed any sound even that coherent. Malcolm seemed determined to continue this conversation so he turned and brushed his lips along Malcolm's cheek, heading for his ear. He breathed a puff of air across the lobe, gratified to feel Malcolm's shuddering under his hands. He pulled it into his mouth with his tongue, trapping it gently between his teeth.

"Your...hair," Malcolm sounded like he was having a little trouble speaking himself now. "Your strength...grace...like a tiger..." He broke off, sighing as Trip released his lobe to flick his tongue up the rim of Malcolm's ear.

"Graceful, huh?" Trip whispered against that ear, feeling the muscles of Malcolm's back jump at each word. Malcolm had moved slightly and he could finally move his hands where he wanted them. He slid them along Malcolm's hot skin until they were resting just on the bones of his hips, ready to start the trail down. "Well then, let's see about-"

There was a small, tactful clearing of a throat not very far away from them.

Malcolm leapt back like he'd been electrocuted, almost ripping Trip's hands off with the zipper of his uniform. He yanked it closed so fast Trip was amazed he didn't stab himself in the neck. Malcolm was blushing so hard it looked like he'd dipped his face in acid, but in another second he was standing in perfect at-ease position—except that he had his hands discreetly clasped over his groin. Trip tried to arrange himself as efficiently but didn't quite manage it, though he was quietly thankful that embarrassment was quickly taking care of the problem of where to put his hands.

The fact that it was Elizabeth Cutler and Travis Mayweather standing there—rather than, say, T'Pol or the Captain—was only slightly cheering, especially since Elizabeth was herself about as red as some of the flowers she liked to study, desperately trying to find any place to look except at the two men in front of her. Only Travis seemed blissfully unaffected, which Trip attributed to his boomer upbringing. Two senior officers making out like horny teenagers was probably mild compared to some of the things he'd seen on his family's freighter, but Trip could still have done without the look on the ensign's face: like he was fighting a losing battle to keep from laughing.

"Can we help you, Ensigns?" Malcolm asked, as if this were the armoury instead of Sickbay and he the one in charge. Trip was quietly amazed that the man could sound so calm, though his face was only slightly less red than a moment earlier.

"Well, sirs, uh..." Elizabeth's voice sounded a bit like she was being strangled, and her eyes still refused to settle on either of them—darting around as if they would escape out of her head any second. Travis finally gave up any attempt at tact and started laughing.

"...We just got off shift," Elizabeth managed finally, "and were wondering if you'd like a hand?" Her voice finished in a mortified squeak as if she had wandered into their private quarters instead of the public Sickbay, and Trip would have felt sorry for her if he wasn't so embarrassed himself. "-With the animals?" She added after another painful moment of silence, and Travis burst into such gales of laughter that Trip figured he might collapse for lack of oxygen.

"Thank you," Malcolm answered stiffly, "but they've already been taken care of." He nodded once then started walking briskly towards the corridor. "Goodnight."

"'Night," Trip echoed the nod to the two ensigns. He hustled after Malcolm, who without seeming to be hurrying, was apparently going at warp speed.

"Goodnight," he heard Elizabeth squeak after him. It sounded like she was trying to keep from giggling herself now. Travis was laughing too hard to say anything.

* * *

"Well, that was humiliating," Malcolm said dryly when they had finally entered the safety of Trip's quarters.

"Yep," Trip agreed, flopping into the only chair in the room. He watched as Malcolm lay down on his bed, lifting one leg than another to unzip his boots and let them fall gracelessly to the floor. Malcolm groaned, rubbing his hands vigorously over his face, and Trip began to smile. "Kinda' fun, though."

Malcolm cracked an eye open. "What did you say?"

Trip's smile became a grin. "I said it was kinda' fun."

"Fun," Malcolm snorted, though Trip couldn't help noticing his mouth was curving up as well. "You have a rather bizarre concept of 'fun'."

Trip just laughed, leaning forward to unzip his boots and pull them off. He stood and went over to his bunk, then climbed over Malcolm so that he was straddling him: one hand and one knee on either side. He made a sound he hoped was something like a purr.

Both of Malcolm's eyes were open now. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Bein' your tiger," Trip answered. He leaned down and nuzzled against Malcolm's neck, then licked him, pulling the flat of his tongue up his cheek all the way to his temple.

Malcolm's nose wrinkled and he rubbed his cheek. "Tigers don't purr."

Trip leaned down again, until his lips were just touching Malcolm's ear. He nipped it gently before he whispered: "Make me growl, then."

Malcolm reached for the back of Trip's head; his eyes had gone smoky. "Gladly," he said simply, and pulled Trip's mouth over to his.

Trip was thinking that maybe he should thank Phlox for convincing him to look after the animals for him. Then his lips met Malcolm's and he showed the lieutenant just how an engineer could growl.


End file.
